


Only As Young As the Minute is Full of It

by angelheadedhipster



Category: Bring It On (Movies)
Genre: 3Y, Canon Divergence, F/F, bisexuality exists, in which i work thru some feelings by writing about eliza dushku's lips, slashing classic high school movies is kind of my specialty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster
Summary: “I want you,” Torrance says later that day, showing up at Missy’s house to talk to her, and if there’s a pause before the rest of that sentence - “on the squad” - then probably no one noticed but her.





	Only As Young As the Minute is Full of It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nitpickyabouttrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/gifts).



> 3Y this year (last year) was about trying new things so, here is my first ever femmeslash! Love you, yin

Torrance Shipman had no problem with gay people. That was definitely not the issue. One of her cousins was gay, and he was very nice, even if they only saw each other once a year. She didn’t know any lesbians, personally, but it wasn’t on purpose. She just...didn’t know any.

They just...they just used words like that, around the locker room. Everyone did, it was normal to them. Torrance didn’t really think about what ‘dyke’ meant when she said something about Darcy’s new shorts. It was just...just a word.

But now Missy Pantone was running out of the gym because Courtney had said that word, away from Torrance and the team, and Torrance felt terrible. Like she was going to throw up.

Missy was the poo, like she told Whitney and Courtney. That was what mattered. They couldn’t afford to lose an athlete like that; Missy would be a fantastic cheerleader. And if Torrance’s heart had sunk into her stomach when Missy’s face crumpled, well, that was just, that was sympathy. She’d been so keyed up, from the second Missy walked in, with her braids and her low-slung jeans, and that chain clacking off her hip. Missy clearly meant business, and it was impressive. That’s all. Torrance has always been excited about talent.

And if that talent was gay...that was, that was fine. Courtney was a bitch anyway. Torrance would get Missy back, she would.

For the team.

And she thought maybe she would stop using that word. Because it’s not like there’s anything wrong with Missy, if that's how she is.

“I want you,” she says later that day, showing up at Missy’s house to talk to her, and if there’s a pause before the rest of that sentence - “on the squad” - then probably no one noticed but her.

+++

They’d only known each other a day, so maybe it wasn’t the best move for Torrance to get in a car with Missy and drive several hours, but there was something about Missy...Torrance felt safe with her. Like they’d known each other for way longer than they had.

They didn’t talk much on the way there, just a bit of bickering over the radio station. Missy liked music with a lot of loud guitar, and had very little tolerance for the normal music on the pop stations.  They compromised with lite FM, and Missy grinned at her when “The Pina Colada Song” came on. Torrance felt the smile all the way down into her chest. It felt good to be getting along, even if they mostly weren’t talking. Just sharing the car like that...it was like they were getting to know each other just by being next to each other. It felt better and better the longer Missy drove.

And then Torrance found out that Big Red had been stealing cheers for years, and things felt much less good.

They were back in the car, and Torrance knew she was babbling, and she knows she sounds crazy, but she doesn't care. This is her whole life - the squad, the routines, being the best - and now it's all crashing down, and she keeps thinking about Missy grabbing her arm when the Clovers were threatening her, and how that felt protective, in that moment. Safe.

It’s that feeling, and the sense of ease they’ve developed after the hours spent in the car together, that inspires Torrance to tell Missy her biggest secret. 

Missy laughs, at first, and then she tries to reassure Torrance that there’s no such thing as curses. Torrance doesn’t really believe her, but it helps, hearing that. Missy is easy to talk to, and Torrance finds that she trusts her.

Torrance has talked herself out. The lights of the other cars are casting shadows on their faces, a few more miles until they get home, when Missy says, “I’m sorry Isis talked that way to you. She’s always been…” 

“Terrifying?” Torrance supplies.

Missy makes a face, and her head tilts side to side. “Well, I guess so. I was going to say ‘intense.’”

“Did you know her?”

Missy doesn’t reply immediately, looking out at the highway in front of her. Torrance notices her fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

Missy looks over, as if she’s checking for something in Torrance’s face, and then says, “Yeah. I knew her. We actually, um, we actually went out for a little while.”

Huh.

Missy is looking at the road now, not at Torrance, but Torrance can see her licking her lips, as she stares straight ahead.

The pause has gone on too long now, so Torrance says, “oh. That’s...that’s cool.” It is a dumb thing to say, but she can’t really think of anything else. She’s just picturing Isis and Missy now, Isis touching Missy’s face, Missy looking up at her and laughing. Missy is shorter, she’d have to lean up to kiss Isis, or Isis would have to bend down.

Missy does look over now, and she smiles. It's a new smile - not her big open mouth that she gets when she laughs, or even the teasing sarcastic smile Torrance has gotten used to. This smile feels small, and soft, and Torrance feels like it's an honor to get to see it.

“Yeah, I mean...it was, til it wasn’t. You know how it is,” Missy says.

What flashes through Torrance’s head is Aaron not picking up his phone, but she pushes that thought away. “Yeah, for sure,” she says, instead.

“But she’s right about the cheers,” Missy says. “I just...I thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah, I...thank you,” Torrance says, and she doesn’t specify for what.

They’re quiet again after that, the only sound the road and the radio, and Torrance can’t stop the images running through her head. Isis’s tiny skirt, the lines of her thighs, Missy’s hands on her. Isis kissing Missy’s neck, the spot where it joins her shoulder. The two of them kissing, Isis’s full lips, Missy’s eyes squeezed shut, her hand running across Isis’s stomach.

Missy smiles that secret soft smile at Torrance again when she drops her off. Torrance thinks maybe they are friends now.

+++

Torrance spends so much time in her cheerleading uniform that she doesn't really think about it anymore. It's just the clothes she wears to work, and her job is cheer.

Maybe it’s because she’s never seen Missy in her uniform before, but the moment Missy comes out of the house it hits her right in the gut that these clothes are supposed to be sexy.

Missy is all embarrassed at first, her hair in the usual cheerleading bouncy ponytail, her shoulders rolled up to her ears. But she gets into it, and then she’s dancing back and forth, doing the running man, and Torrance is whooping and hollering with the boys in the car. It feels nice, normal and natural, and Torrance knows she’s staring, but it’s ok. She can see the lines of Missy’s abs where the shirt crops off, and every time she swings her hips the skirt rises up just enough to make it seem like it will show something scandalous, but then it never does.

Missy bounds to the car, laughing. Torrance thinks that Missy should never take that uniform off.

Because she’s such a good cheerleader. Yeah.

That night after the game she’s staying at the Pantones’, and Cliff is there. There’s a moment, in the bathroom, when they’re both brushing their teeth…

Cliff likes her, she’s pretty sure of that. That’s what boys do. They like her. She likes boys, too. What’s not to like? It makes sense.

But Missy is there too, with her arms in that tiny tank top. Torrance can tell she’s definitely not wearing a bra underneath, and she’s trying very hard not to stare. She’s seen girls’ nipples before, and she almost never wears a bra herself. Why is this messing with her so much?

Missy’s shoulders are gorgeous, she decides. She can admire that, without it being weird. Her upper body and chest workout must be really serious. Maybe Torrance should ask her about her deltoid exercises sometime.

She recognizes that she’s being a bit weird that night, but she can’t seem to stop. Being around Missy somehow seems to dial her up to 11, all the time. When things are intense she feels brittle and loud, like she’s about to go off the rails, though Missy can usually steady her. When she’s relaxed, though, she feels like maybe around Missy she’s the most herself she ever is.

“What are you doing?” Missy asks her as they’re about to head to bed, when she comes back from talking to Cliff. Torrance isn’t sure, but maybe there’s a note of jealousy in her voice.

“Nothing!” she says, and they get into bed, and that is that.

Torrance can’t sleep. She feels wired all over, like she sometimes feels after a competition. Keyed up. Her thoughts are going a mile a minute and she feels like her whole body is buzzing, her lips and her fingers. She tells herself it's because of that moment with Cliff, of being this close to someone who likes her. Missy is only a few inches away, she can feel the warmth from her skin across the bed. The sheets feel extra smooth on Torrance’s skin, and nothing feels quite comfortable.

A girl can like both girls and boys, right?

Torrance squeezes her eyes shut, determined to fall asleep and stop feeling this way. But her eyes pop back open, and she’s staring at the ceiling and listening to Missy’s quiet breathing. She almost feels like if she closed her eyes, and leaned in really really close, she could hear Missy’s heart beating.

She shifts deliberately, rolling a little farther from Missy. Towards Cliff’s room. It’s a strange feeling, being caught here, between the two of them - and then her brain helpfully supplies an image of Torrance actually being caught between Missy and Cliff, without clothes, and no that is not ok, even in fantasy. Torrance tenses up, and decides this is a good time to go through the deep breathing exercises her old cheerleading coach had taught her.

Besides, she has a _boyfriend_.

It is partially that thought that leads her to call Aaron the next morning, _again_. Her body had woken her up early and she’d started to roll over in her sleep, moving towards warmth, only to realize who was next to her. She’d popped out of bed, all tightly wound and full of energy.

Aaron answers this time, _finally_. Torrance is bouncing about, pacing, and talking to him about the next steps, as Missy wakes up and stares at her. Torrance has a lot to do, she needs to do it right now, but she does notice that Missy looks really cozy there, inviting and warm and soft. What if she just crawled back in next to her, put an arm around Missy? What might happen?

You are on the phone with your boyfriend _right now,_ Torrance tells herself. And you have a cheermergency to solve. Stop it. 

+++

When things go to shit at Regionals, it’s Missy she grabs, hands on her shoulders, enfolding her towards herself. As if just closeness with Missy makes her feel that much better, and maybe it does.

+++

Torrance gets rid of Aaron. It was time, it was past time, and now she doesn’t have anything in her way.

+++ 

It’s the end of practice, and they went hard. Torrance happens to look at Missy as they are all walking towards the lockers. There’s a sea of girls around them, chattering and shaking their hair out, but Torrance sees Missy as if she’s a spotlight, a magnet. Missy has that dark rich hair plastered to her forehead, her face is sweaty, and her mouth is slightly open. She looks wrecked and dazed, and those chocolate eyes flick to Torrance’s, and Torrance trips over her own foot. She can feel that look in her stomach, in her hips, it's like it bypasses all other body parts, and now that energy is pinging all over her body, and she feels like she can’t breathe.

It doesn’t mean anything, she tells herself. Missy was just tired from the workout, that’s all. They just happened to lock eyes at a strange moment.

+++

“Bisexual” sounds ok, maybe. Not that she’s going to say it out loud, or anything, but. It's better than a lot of other words Torrance has used about people.

+++

Florida is crazy, people everywhere. Torrance can feel her stomach twisting itself into knots before they even get off the plane, and she knows it makes her louder, more forceful, more smiley. She probably looks deranged, but she can’t help herself.

She keeps Missy as close to her as she can, all the time. They walk hand in hand through the crowds, and Torrance feels like Missy is her stunt partner, but emotionally. Torrance is floating way up in the air and Missy feels so safe, like she’s solid ground.

“My brother’s an idiot,” Missy says. “I’m sorry he didn’t come, he should have.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Torrance says. She honestly hadn’t been thinking of Cliff all day.

“No but - “ Missy stops herself. “I just don’t understand it. If it were me, I would have come to see you.”

Torrance giggles. “But you’re already here,” she says.

They’re sitting on the bed the night before the final, eating idiotic candy they got out of the vending machine. There is a whirl of hairspray and nerves all around them, but Torrance feels okay. They’re here, they have worked so hard, they are prepared. Missy looks calm, her perfect shoulders relaxed, a dimple in her cheek as she smiles.  

“Thank god you’re here this season, Missy,” Torrance says. “I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Aw, tear,” says Missy, and trails a finger down her olive skin, past her cheek. Torrance grins at her, because Missy gets her most sarcastic when she’s at her most emotional, and Torrance knows it, and Missy knows she knows it.

Torrance feels like she’s buzzing, and she’s thinking about running her own finger down Missy’s cheek like that. It’s nerves, she knows, nerves and the combined tension of several hundred teenage girls. And Missy’s big brown eyes, and the dip of her shirt under her collar bones.

Tomorrow.

+++

They get second place, and it feels like first. Everyone is screaming all around them, and Missy grabs Torrance’s hand and they are screaming into each other’s faces. Everything feels so exciting, like the world is created just for them and their curled ponytails.

Torrance smiles at Missy, their mouths turning up at the same time.

It’s a cacophony around them, and Torrance has hugged everyone she can think of, and told off everyone who needs it. Missy is standing there with a Spirit Stick, a hand on her hip. Her lips are so so red, painted to match their uniforms. Torrance is staring at her mouth, she knows it.

Missy drops the Spirit Stick, and Torrance watches it fall for almost a whole second before bringing her eyes back to Missy’s face.

Missy has her hand on her hip, and the expression on her face says ‘live a little, try something.” Torrance could grab the stick, say something stupid about curses. But they just won, and the world is confetti and smiles, and Torrance feels like she can do anything.

So she does.

She wraps an arm around Missy’s shoulders, like she’s done a thousand times before, and she leans down, just ever so slightly, and she kisses those red lips she’s been staring at.

She’s kissed Missy before, friendly girl kisses, ‘you’re the best!’ kisses. But this is different, Torrance knows it, and within a few seconds she can tell that Missy knows it too. Missy is kissing her back, and her lips are softer and gentler than she’s expecting. Torrance’s lips part slightly, and Missy inhales sharply, her breath coming in stutters. Torrance feels sparks all over her body, and something dark and warm pooling in her stomach. Every twitch of Missy’s lips feels like magic.

They pull apart after only a few seconds - there are still cheering girls all around them, flashes of cameras, reporters and banners. No one is looking at two girls kissing, or at the utter upheaval of Torrance’s understanding of the world.

“Can I stay at your house after the next game?” Torrance says, because Missy’s lipstick is smudged and she wants to lick it off but she has to go talk to a reporter now.

“Of course,” Missy says, and her eyes are laughing and wide, and her chest is heaving, like it was when they first finished their routine.

“Okay,” says Torrance. “Okay.”


End file.
